Cheating Death
by Alex Kade
Summary: OW: Not a deathfic, but a Death fic!


**A/N: **First of all, I must apologize to all of you who are waiting for the promised sequels I've mentioned. If one of you would kindly tell the invading plot bunnies to cease attacking me at odd hours, I might actually get one of those others done!

Second, this one's a bit...different...than my norm. The bunny tackled me in my sleep so the story spawned from a rather odd dream, lol. But, this one is definitely interesting to say the least!

Third, gotta give thanks to my beta **Aislinn Graves **as usual, but also wanted to give a very special thanks to **sfulton229.** This reader has sent very, very well thought out reviews on every chapter of every M7 story I've written, and without those kind words and acknowledgments of the lessons/hidden plot lines I so carefully weave in , I'd have less motivation to write. They let me know I've done my job as an author, and that means soooo much to me. :) So, while I do appreciate everyone's reviews all the time and don't want the rest of you to think I'm slighting you or love you any less, I just wanted to officially award **sfulton** with the honor of being the best M7 reviewer I've had to date. Thank you!

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_His _name again.

The cloaked figure tapped a bony finger on the list the Fates had given him. He couldn't help but sigh at the number of times they had gone after that man and failed. For some reason or other both Heaven and Hell seemed to want him, and the ongoing feud continually thwarted the Sisters from carrying out their designated role. Of course, every time this happened it resulted in wasted hours for the Reaper, as well. He was cheated out of taking this soul over and over again, feeling like nothing more than the middle man caught in a tug-of-war over a human who hadn't seemed all that spectacular to him.

What was it about that man that so interested God and the Devil? Why did they send their angels and their demons to war over him so?

Death thought back to the multitudes of other times the name had come up on his list.

The first had introduced him to that little fox as just a boy, but a boy not to be taken lightly. His mother had already begun shaping him into the snake that he would one day become, and the Reaper had to laugh as the child slipped riches out of the pockets of the wealthy with an almost detached boredom. It was this propensity for daydreaming of a life more ordinary that was nearly his undoing as he stepped into the path of an oncoming stage. Death had pondered as he waited for his prize on whether the boy would find himself heading North or South for his young afterlife. He was a thief and a liar, but a child nonetheless, and doubtlessly would be forgiven for his sins. He would probably rise to the gentle fields of golden bliss. Of course, that certainly didn't make the Devil want him any less. He had seen potential in what the little rat could become, saw another soul being raised up with the traits that would eventually feed him another victim to be tortured. He wouldn't lose that one without a fight, not hardly. The demons were sent out to defy the Fates, shattering a wheel on the carriage and altering its path just in time to miss the child. Death shook his head as the boy merely shrugged and stepped around the wreckage, oblivious to the fact that his life had just been spared by Satan, himself.

The Sisters tried a second time with the convenience of a war that the Reaper didn't pretend to understand. Man's affairs made no difference to him with the exception of the fact that this particular argument kept him busier than he had been in ages. Each soul he took melted like butter at his touch, feeding his lust for stripping a piece of useless flesh of the spark that fueled it. He was thrilled to see the boy's name come up again, ready to claim that which had slipped through his fingers once before. He watched intently as the young soldier gave direction to a unit manning a canon. Something was definitely different about the young man now that he had grown some. He looked sharp, calculating, observant, and perhaps just a little sad and a little afraid. Skills taught to him with the goal of taking wealth off others were now being used to take the lives of his fellow countrymen. This clearly didn't sit well with the boy, not yet a man, but some strange sense of honor that hadn't existed in the child of years past drove him to perform his duty with unerring determination. It was impressive, really, and the Reaper knew that this young man would still be destined for a place of peace. He was not at fault for starting the deadly feud, after all, and the remorse tearing at him with each man that fell to his fire served as proof that he deserved rest from wicked ways. Apparently the Devil still felt otherwise. This time the Hell minions rolled a rock under the heel of the soldier just as he stepped back, sending him to the ground at the moment his canon misfired. He had suffered some burns and taken some shrapnel, but his proximity to the ground had countered his proximity to the exploding weapon, rendering him the only surviving member of his unit. Death sighed, the Sisters fumed, the Devil laughed, and the Heavens poured down their tears on the poor soul who, bless him, now carried a guilt over the fact that a clumsy misstep led to his survival while the rest of his men perished in a horrible accident. They hadn't even died in honor at the hands of the enemy. He left that war with a broken body and a broken soul, falling right back into the path the Devil had wagered on.

Now the third time had actually amused the Reaper a bit, despite the annoyance of knowing he lost this particular soul, yet again. The soldier was now a full-grown man and had definitely improved in the arts of his childhood lessons. Those eager Triplets had set him up nicely to fall right into the awaiting hands of Satan, but alas, it was time for the tables to turn. The man had just pulled a rather impressive con on nearly an entire town, and had managed to steal himself an equally impressive, if not ornery thoroughbred, on the way out. His escape had been flawless, easily losing his enraged followers through a thick copse of Louisiana forest. Five days later, just when he felt it safe to return to some form of civilization, the Sisters threw a snake in the horse's path. That proud chestnut danced about a bit before tossing the conman straight into a pit of sinking sand. Death had rubbed his hands together in anticipation. This would not be a pleasant way to go, and he relished in the fact that he would be able to watch those last panicked moments before that slippery soul would be his. Again, though, it was not to be. Angels on high saw the chance to keep their sought-after player in the game a little longer. They floated down and whispered something into that chestnut's ear, and that damn horse actually walked close enough for the drowning thief to grip the sagging reins. The conman had urged the horse to pull, then, and the animal had actually obeyed. The Reaper didn't know what those angels had told that crazy chestnut that day, but the animal had remained loyal to that man ever since, and he had likewise remained loyal to the horse. The life was saved, yet again, and a friend was gained. The Devil was enraged and Death couldn't help but chuckle as the past jests of Hell were returned by angels in the form of a lowly beast.

The fifth attempt came much later. Perhaps the Sisters thought the warring factions of high and low would forget about their target by the time his name had been drawn again. Death certainly had not forgotten, and it quickly became apparent that neither had the two potential recipients. The Reaper had been a bit surprised that this time the conman had somehow found himself a position in law enforcement. In an unusually amazing display of heroics, that peculiar man rushed out in the middle of a gunfight towards an iron carriage sporting nothing but a bottle of whiskey. Surely this sacrifice for his…friends?...would earn him an immediate place amongst the clouds. For some strange reason, Satan didn't appear to agree. Either that or the Lord of the Underworld simply took offense to being bested on the last round. Either way, as a shot was carefully lined up, those conniving Hell imps pulled on the gunman's arm just enough for the bullet intent of finding flesh to only find glass and liquid. The bottle shattered in the surprised peacekeeper's hand; but instead of taking a lesson from the near-death, he merely asked for another whiskey and kept on his suicide mission until he succeeded. By this time Death was getting a bit tired of witnessing this game.

The angels scored another point on the sixth attempt. The Devil had been doing his best work to lure the money-hungry gambler back onto the path of evil, tempting him with the proverbial apple that could simply not be ignored. The Fates saw it as a chance to wipe that life from the Earth, once again, and slipped that familiar name into the fold. The Dark Lord was delighted when greed finally won out over the disgusting lessons in all things good that the previous con artist had begun to all-too-easily slip into. A theft occurred, an abandonment of duties and friendship was on the verge of happening, but then a change of heart had that man stepping right into the trap the Sisters had set up for him. They were being smart this time, anticipating the warring factions of good and evil in his soul. They used the Devil's lessons to lure the gambler out into the open, then depended on the golden heart that the good Lord gazed lovingly upon to turn him straight into the path of an oncoming bullet. That one should have killed him outright, the shot was at such close range. That plan would have worked masterfully had an angel not reached up and readjusted the stolen goods within the sinner's jacket at the very last second, not saving the gambler much pain but most certainly sparing him his life. He would live to redeem himself for the slip, much to the chagrin of the Fates, the Devil, and Death.

The Triplets tried a new tactic on the seventh round, tossing that name back in the listing right on the heels of the last attempt. Perhaps they thought they wouldn't be suspected of trying again so soon and they would catch the interfering forces off guard. This only served to frustrate the Reaper. The last thing he wanted was to be sent after _him_ again so soon. It was a waste of his talents, really, to sit by and idly watch a tasty morsel get ripped from him time and time again. There were other, less challenging victims to tend to, after all. But no, he'd been dealt his cards (but probably not that damn Ace he so wanted but knew he most likely wouldn't get), and would have to stand by and watch just in case the Sisters actually succeeded. Again, he had been forced to fold his hand. It seemed the gambler still had a touch of that greed left over from the last failed attempt. His eyes sparkled almost as much as that diamond he had just won off his mark. Death briefly wondered if the man had cheated to win it. He shrugged his shoulders – that was not for him to perceive. It was between God and the Devil to seek out those underhanded tactics. The Reaper didn't care _who _got the damn soul in the end, he just wanted his bite before the spirit moved on to his new forever-home. As the events played out, he assumed the gambler was still too close to the clutches of the Devil for the King of Heaven to be comfortable with. The gambler had tucked his diamond into his coat pocket for safekeeping. His _coat_ pocket. Death sighed as things began to turn ugly for the peacekeepers and one gorgeous little snippet of an angel practiced a little slight-of-hand of her own. She slipped that precious diamond right into that vest pocket, just in time to stop yet another bullet from finding its vital mark. The Reaper had thrown up his hands in disgust when the fool of a man neglected his second close call in so many weeks via the same life-saving technique and dove right back out into the line of fire in search of that gem. Maybe some part of him knew that the Fates had failed again and he'd be safe for the time being. Or maybe the Devil had sunk the talons of greed into him a little too far. Either way, the gambler now had some extra time to redeem himself before the next attempt came to pass.

That time was apparently now. Admittedly curious, Death had checked in on that coveted soul from time to time just to prepare himself for whom to watch out for on the next pass. It seemed that enigmatic man bounced back and forth so many times, he even had his two potential benefactors confused. Either way, it was a toss-up on which direction that soul would head towards once it filtered through Death's hand, and he was almost as curious to see where that would be as he was about how such a unique spirit would feel coursing through him. _If _he got the chance this time to taste it. He had his doubts until he arrived at the destined place where the life that had been on Earth far longer than intended was supposed to meet its end. A grin touched his cloaked features as he realized the wise tactic the Fates had used this time. This was an old method, a sure method, nothing glamorous, brave, devious, or even humorous about it. This was just simple, debilitating disease, something both the angels and the demons were powerless to stop. Heaven and Hell watched in anticipation, waiting to see where the soul would slide once it left the body. The Reaper nearly salivated as he waited for the flesh to give up its tentative hold on the light that kept it going.

He pulled his gaze away from the weak form in the bed long enough to peer at the six men who surrounded the intended victim. None cried, though none looked like they had slept in ages. They stood surrounding the sick man like the gargoyles the Reaper had seen staving off evil spirits from the castles of Europe. He could see in their faces a refusal to give up on the seventh member of their pack, a determination to keep him alive through sheer force of will. They didn't look afraid or remorseful, just prepared to ward off, well, the likes of him really. Their circle of protection was a powerful one, one he hadn't seen the likes of before in all his eternity, and it caused him some hesitation. When had this man become so important to these other six that they would go against both God and the Devil to keep him?

The figure in the bed stirred, his chest heaving as he struggled to pull in air. All eyes watched him intently, including Death's, as the fight to live on continued. Green eyes opened and briefly locked with those of each of his brothers, a slight smile touching the pale lips, a smile the Reaper wondered at. It was almost as if that man was privy to some secret that all the Forces that Be could not possibly fathom. Whatever it was would have to remain a mystery as eyelids drooped shut and a shudder passed through the sick body, bringing a halt to the ragged, stuttering movements of the oxygen-deprived lungs.

The Reaper no longer grinned as he moved forward to pass through that powerful circle.

"No."

The one word stopped him in his tracks. He had surely heard it enough times in his infinite age where it should never have had such an instant effect of him. It often came out as shocked denial over a sudden loss, an anguished cry for the departing of a loved one, a repeated mantra in vain hopes of reversing time; but he had never heard it quite like this. The simple negatory term was uttered so softly he almost hadn't heard it, but there was no denial or anguish or false hope in the tone. The word was issued as an order not to be ignored, one that came laced with the promise of icy vengeance should it not be followed. Death turned to the man that issued the demand, the one dressed all in black, and instantly knew the simple "no" had not been for the gambler. It had been an order to _him. _This cold man, this human with a soul darker than any Death had ever seen, was telling him to back down, the waves of strength pouring from the other five men in the circle promising to help carry through with their leader's wrath should the Reaper not do as told. For the first time ever, throughout all the souls Death had taken, he found himself to be afraid. He knew without a doubt that should he not return to these men what they had just lost, they would seek a means to tear him apart from the inside out. One by one, they would rip through him, trailing fiery agony through his core until they felt they had been vindicated for the early loss of their brother. It would be as close to experiencing Hell as he would ever come, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

The six men waited, staring at their fallen brother but boring their focus into the Reaper. A chill passed through him and he backed away from that frightening circle. At his first retreated step, the still figure on the bed twitched ever so slightly. The second step brought a much-needed, but shallow breath into the lungs. At the third step, the one just before Death made his exit, he saw that same knowing smile pull at the gambler's face.

Death understood. That man had found his place amongst these avenging angels, his own horsemen of the apocalypse. He wasn't afraid to die because he knew they wouldn't let him be taken. He had trusted them completely, and they had come through for him. The Reaper knew, too, that if any of the others had been in that bed instead, the Southerner's own energy aligned with the other six would be just as powerful, and just as frightening. His was no longer a soul to be toyed with, pulled back and forth between Heaven and Hell. He would walk in the land of the living forever, slipping between one life and the next as easily as those damn cards of his slipped through his fingers, and he would do so with these other six immortal forces. Fates, Heaven, Hell, and Death, himself, could not touch any of them.

The Reaper walked away from that sought-after soul for the final time, never to look back. Somewhere above, the angels sat with shy smiles. Somewhere below, the demons screamed in rage. And the Sisters, the Fates who tried so hard to carry out their duties, sighed as they dropped that special name into a jar. They simply labeled it "7" before they placed it up on a shelf, completing a collection so powerful that even the dust stayed away in sheer terror.

_**The End!**_


End file.
